


An Exercise in Trust

by xxSparksxx



Series: And Then There Were Two [8]
Category: And Then There Were None (TV 2015)
Genre: F/M, PWP, Smut, there is no plot here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-28
Updated: 2016-05-28
Packaged: 2018-07-10 17:49:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6998440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxSparksxx/pseuds/xxSparksxx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Do you trust me?” Philip asks.</p><p>Vera lifts an eyebrow. “Why?” she asks him. He’s leaning against the doorframe, one hand in his pocket. He’s got something in there, she sees; it’s not just his hand that’s distorting the line of his trousers. Vera tilts her head and lets a smile creep across her lips. “Why?” she asks again. “Why do you want to know?” </p><p>Philip pulls his hand out of his pocket, and with it comes something that flashes in the electric light. Something metal. A pair of handcuffs, Vera recognises, and her breath catches in her throat.</p><p>“Do you trust me?” he asks again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Exercise in Trust

**Author's Note:**

> I was prompted by iorwen and mmmuses, over on tumblr, with ‘touching anywhere but where the person desperately wants to be touched’. Vera and Philip rather ran with it. This is pure smut. There is no plot here. Thanks to rainpuddle13 for beta-reading duties :)

“Do you trust me?” Philip asks.

Vera lifts an eyebrow. He looks smug; a sly smirk, eyes dark, the kind of expression that makes Vera sure that he has a plan in mind for the rest of the evening. She’s been waiting for something like this. She’s had suspicions ever since she got home, an hour before, to find he’d prepared her favourite supper, and bought a fruit pie from the bakery around the corner. He’s been watching her, too. He always watches her, there’s nothing new in that, but there is a particular focus he gets when his thoughts have drifted in a certain direction. 

Tonight, Philip watched as she discarded her heels and coat, he watched as she stretched away the ache of sitting at a desk all day, he watched as she moved around the kitchen. She’s been his constant focus, and she’s very aware of it. It’s made her conscious of every movement, of every slight touch as they ate and then cleared away the dishes. There is a slow pulse of desire running through her veins that, she’s sure, he’s been deliberately stoking with his attentions.

“Why?” she asks him, swinging her legs up onto the couch and leaning her back against the arm of it. She bends one knee, letting her skirt fall down to reveal the top of her stockings and the clips of her suspender belt. Philip watches her. He’s leaning against the doorframe, one hand in his pocket. He’s got something in there, she sees; it’s not just his hand that’s distorting the line of his trousers. Vera tilts her head and lets a smile creep across her lips. “Why?” she asks again. “Why do you want to know?” 

The answer is a complicated thing, after all. It’s both yes and no, and she won’t say ‘yes’ now without knowing what he wants.

Philip pulls his hand out of his pocket, and with it comes something that flashes in the electric light. Something metal. A pair of handcuffs, Vera recognises, and her breath catches in her throat.

“Do you trust me?” he asks again. Vera’s mouth is dry suddenly, and she swallows and then moistens her lips. Philip glances down at her mouth, his eyes sharp. Then he dangles the handcuffs from two fingers, letting them swing a little. He doesn’t say anything more. He doesn’t have to speak, his meaning is plain. 

Vera swallows again. There are so many ways this could go wrong, and yet…

And yet this is something she’s wanted, and he _knows_ it. He’s held her down before. He’s grasped her wrists and kept her from touching him, and oh, it’s so delicious when he does. Philip knows she likes that. He must have been thinking about this, to go out and acquire a pair of handcuffs. He’s been _planning_ this. The very fact of that, the fact that Philip has been aware of that desire and has found another way to fulfil it, fulfil her, is arousing.

Philip has promised to take care of her. So Vera nods, and licks her lips again.

“Yes,” she rasps. “Yes, I trust you.” At least enough for this. She doesn’t say that, but Philip hears it anyway. He nods, shrugging one shoulder, as if to say he expected nothing else. But she trusts him enough for this, and that seems good enough for Philip, at least for now. He stands aside to let her go past him, out of the sitting room, and then he follows close behind her, up the stairs and into their bedroom. The blankets have already been pulled back from the bed, and the curtains are already closed. And, Vera sees with amusement, there is already another pair of handcuffs, attached to the bed frame. One pair for each hand, she supposes.

“Confident, were we?” she suggests, as Philip switches on the light. He crowds close to her, backing her up against the wall. Vera rests her hands on his shoulders and lifts her face up, waiting for the kiss she’s sure is coming. She’s right. Philip takes her mouth and possesses her, his lips hard and his tongue determined. She can taste the beer he’d had with their supper as he licks into her mouth, and his day-old stubble rasps against her skin. 

“I know what you like,” Philip says, when at last he retreats. Vera’s breathless already, and Philip’s breath is rapid too, his eyes dark and hungry. She slides her hands down his shoulders to the buttons of his shirt. He’s not been on a job today, so he’s not in a suit. Just trousers and shirt, and a vest underneath. She unbuttons the first three buttons, and then leans forward to nuzzle at the bit of chest that’s now bared to her. Philip hums, and he threads his fingers through her hair, encouraging to stay there. Vera kisses and licks at his skin, and then she’s distracted by a click. 

Philip has put the handcuff around her wrist. Vera looks at it, the shining metal around her slender wrist, and she shivers. 

“Get undressed,” he orders. He takes a step back from her and Vera steadies herself against the wall. Then she nods, and moves to obey him. The handcuff swings against her breast as she unbuttons her blouse, against her back when she reaches behind to unfasten her bra. It’s cold against her skin as she wriggles out of her skirt and strips away her stockings and suspender belt. Every touch of the cold metal keeps her focused on what she’s agreed to, what Philip has proposed.

Philip is stripping too, but when Vera is bare, he’s still wearing his briefs. Vera glances him over. She’s distracted for a moment by his lean form, as usual, but then she’s struck by the realisation of why he’s not naked. It’s not a power play, not a way to demonstrate his control. That would be too crude for Philip, who knows, after all, that her submission does not mean that she lacks power. No, he’s kept his briefs on because, though he’ll get pleasure from this, this is not about him. This is for her. He’s doing this to please _her_. 

Vera feels almost dizzy. A wave of arousal sweeps over her, making her shiver. Her nipples are hard, and it’s not because the room is a little chilly. There are words in her mouth, but she keeps them trapped behind her teeth, swallows them down until the urge to speak them has passed. She can’t say it, she can’t declare her love. She can’t. She trusts him enough to let him handcuff her to the bed, trusts that he won’t harm her and that he’ll release her at the end, but she can’t trust him enough to say that she loves him.

Philip puts his hands on her hips and manoeuvres her towards the bed, backing her up until the bed hits her calves. “If it gets too much,” he says softly, “tell me.” He dips his head and, unerringly, finds the spot on her neck that makes her knees weak when he puts his mouth there. Vera has to grasp hold of him, fingers digging into his shoulders, when he does it now, grazing his teeth across her sensitive skin, licking away the sting, then biting down just hard enough for her to feel it. The sensation ripples across her body, breasts and clit and cunt. It’s a spike of lust, just as it always is when he does this. He knows all her weaknesses, ruthless bastard that he is, but she doesn’t mind that so much anymore.

“Lie down,” Philip tells her. His lips brush against her neck; he presses kisses up her throat, her jaw, but avoids her mouth. Vera makes a whining sound, wanting to kiss him again, but Philip shakes his head and gives a light slap to her flank. “Lie down,” he repeats. 

Vera settles herself on the bed, in the middle rather than on one side, and she holds her arms out and above her head, ready for Philip to cuff her to the bed frame. He fastens one cuff, then the other, and Vera gives her hands a slight tug, just to see how it feels. She’s bound tight. There’s enough space that she can move her shoulders a little, enough that she shouldn’t end up straining herself, but there will be no getting out of these. Philip sits on the bed and rests a hand on her stomach. Vera flinches away from it, but it’s from the coolness of his hand, nothing more.

“Comfortable?” Philip asks her. 

“Yes,” Vera says with a nod. Philip’s smile is lazy, and for a minute he just sits, his hand still on her stomach. Vera feels so exposed, so deliciously laid out for him, waiting for the pleasure he’s so good at giving her. She’s almost quivering with anticipation, and she’s fighting the urge to arch up against his hand. But that’s not the point of this game, and she won’t beg so quickly. Not with words, nor with her body. 

Still, Philip seems to know her limits, and before she can grow too impatient, he climbs onto the bed and straddles her legs, one knee either side of her hips. 

“I’d have got another two pairs,” he comments, “for your ankles. But that would rob me of the pleasure of holding you down myself.” Vera gives a breathless laugh, and Philip grins at her. He looks so different when he lets his expression be free like this; he looks younger, almost boyish. Less the hardened mercenary and more...more _hers_. He is _hers_ , this Philip. Nobody else gets to see him like this. 

Philip strokes his hands over the outside her legs, up and down, and then he leans over and nuzzles at the underside of her breast. “You’ve put on weight since we moved here,” he says. He sounds pleased by the observation. 

“I have not!” Vera exclaims, lifting her head to glower down at him. “Take that back.” Philip chuckles, a warm flutter of air against her skin. 

“You have, though,” he says. He shifts up the bed a little, and cups her breasts in his hands. Vera takes a breath to speak, but he pinches a nipple lightly between thumb and forefinger, robbing her of a retort. “Just a little,” Philip tells her. “Your breasts…your stomach.” He rolls her other nipple between his fingers, teasing at the tightness of it. “It suits you.” He pinches again, an electric shock running from her nipple right into her clit. Vera moans, and arches up into his hands. Philip chuckles again. “I wonder if I can make you come without even touching your cunt,” he says. 

Vera can’t breathe for a moment. Then she tugs at the cuffs, though she knows it’s useless. “Don’t you dare,” she says. “ _Philip_!” But she knows she can’t stop him. There’s nothing she can say. Short of calling this whole thing off, she _can’t stop him_. And Philip has a look on his face, dark and hungry and amused, a look that she knows well. Yes, he dares. Damn him to hell, he dares. What was it she’d thought earlier? That he knows all her weaknesses. He won’t hesitate to use that knowledge against her now, she knows.

Philip moves back down the bed, sliding his hands down her legs until he’s holding her ankles loosely in his grasp. “That day on the train,” he murmurs, “I thought about these glorious legs wrapped around me.” He bends over her and kisses one ankle, then the other. Vera pulls one more time at the handcuffs, then gives up. She’s at his mercy, and Philip is not a merciful man. He tickles the sole of her right foot, then kisses the sensation away before she can do more than flinch. “And then in that red bathing suit,” he continues, “God, your legs went on for miles.” He presses kisses, butterfly-light, up her shins. First one leg, then the other. There’s no order to it, no pattern; Vera doesn’t know where his lips will land next. The anticipation is hard to bear, and the brief touches, the gentleness of it, is not enough. Her breasts feel heavy, there’s heat coursing through her veins, and the one place she most wants him to touch is the one place she knows he _won’t_ touch.

“And you in that towel,” she says breathlessly. Words are the only power she has, and Philip likes to hear her talk. She might, perhaps, goad him into forgetting his intentions. Perhaps. “One touch and it would have fallen right off,” she remembers. “I wanted you to fuck me. If the others hadn’t been there, I’d have pulled it right off you.” Philip chuckles, a warm huff of air against her knee. He’s moving further up her legs, kisses a little firmer now. His stubble is delicious against the softer skin of her inner thighs. She can feel how wet she is; when he nudges her legs apart, the air is cold against her damp pubic hair. He kisses so close to her mound, but when Vera tries to arch her hips up, to spread her legs wider, Philip’s hands turn hard and he holds her firmly. 

“Now, behave,” he chides her. “Hold still for me, darling.” 

“Fuck me,” Vera demands. Philip laughs at her, and then he breathes out a puff of air against her sex. It’s warm, a contrast to the slightly cool air, and it makes Vera gasp. 

“Not yet,” he says. “Now, do I need to find something to tie your feet down, or are you going to be good?” Vera shakes her head, but she’s not sure what her answer is. She can imagine what it would feel like, to be so tied down like that. Like a butterfly pinned out on a board. Spread out and only able to _feel_ , not to touch in return, or to taste. But she has found such a pleasure in pleasing him, in adjusting her behaviour in those small ways that lead him to praise her. 

Whatever answer she gives, Vera knows, he’ll have his way in this. He’s determined to do it, to make her come without touching the folds of her cunt or her desperate clit. Tonight he won’t be thrusting into her, deep and hard, to make her climax. Whether he ties her legs down or not, Vera knows, will make no difference. She forces herself to relax under his hands, making her legs pliant. She’ll do what he wants. For now, at least, she’ll do what he wants.

“Good girl,” Philip murmurs. That sends another wave of arousal through her, makes her quiver with it. Philip breathes out over her cunt again and this time Vera can’t help a moan. “I do love the sounds you make, darling,” he says, still in that soft murmur. Something in Vera tenses, a hand clenching around her heart. But before it can take hold properly, Philip moves further up her body and nuzzles against the soft swell of her abdomen. Stubble and lips and wet tongue all creating different sensations, and Vera loses the thought. She tries to reach for him, to tangle her fingers in his hair, but of course she can’t. Frustration makes her moan again. He nips at her hipbone, a scrape of teeth across her skin. She wants to press herself up into it, but he’s settled on her legs again. He doesn’t trust her to be able to keep still, even if she tries. “Poor Vera,” he says, with no sympathy in his tone. “You want to be able to touch me, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Vera says, hissing through her teeth. “You know I do.” He chuckles again; he’s far too amused. She tries to combat it the only way she can. “I want to fuck you,” she tells him. “I want to wrap my legs around you - like you said - and - oh!” He has moved further upwards once more, back to her breasts, and he’s sucked a nipple into his mouth. It’s a hard, insistent pressure, soothing the wanting ache, but at the same time just making her burn hotter. “More,” she insists. “Philip - oh - want to touch you –,” She’s so wet, she’s aching, but she can’t even press her thighs together to gain a measure of relief that way; he’s kneeling over her, on her, in such a way that she simply can’t move her legs at all. 

“And your breasts,” mutters Philip. “I love your breasts. God, the noises you make when I touch you.” He pinches her other nipple, the one he’s not been sucking, and Vera writhes under him. It’s too much. It’s not enough. It’s a taut wire connected from nipple to clit, a hot pulse of pleasure that’s _not enough_. She wants friction, she wants his thumb rubbing against her clit, she wants his fingers to slip into her core. She wants him to fuck her, to take her, to give her a blissful release the way he has so many times before. “Oh, yes,” Philip says. He licks across her nipple, then kisses his way up to her neck, to that spot that makes her feel as though she’s melting, when he kisses and bites her and _marks her_ there. “Like this, darling,” he coaxes, pinching her nipple again. “Come on. You can do it. Come for me, just like this.”

He scrapes his teeth against her skin, sucks at it, and at the same time he rolls her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Then he pinches the nipple, and nips at her neck, and Vera pulls at the handcuffs and arches up as much as she can. He’s straddling her hips, kneeling up with his weight through one arm, so she can lift herself a little, but she can’t get any _friction_ , she can’t rub her thighs together or lift a leg to pull him close. He keeps toying with her nipple and marking her neck, sensations building, lust coiling tighter and tighter. 

“Please,” she gasps. “Please – Philip – I need – _please_ –,” Oh, she’s begging, and she hates begging, but he’s so cruelly relentless that she can’t help it. On and on he goes, until she’s a mess of raw nerve endings, until it would take only the smallest of touches to her clit to make her tumble over the edge. She’s straining against the handcuffs. The frustration of being unable to move, the warmth of the metal around her wrists, Philip’s mouth at her neck and hand at her breast…it’s all too much, too much, but she can’t _come_. She’s dimly aware that she’s keening, high in her throat, but she can’t help it. 

“Come on,” Philip mutters. “So glorious…come on, Vera. My Vera.” Then _oh_ , he takes his hand from her breast and delves between her legs. All it takes is a brush of his finger against her clit, and then Vera slams into a climax. Her whole body shakes, wave after wave crashing over her and robbing her of breath. She is insensible to anything else; there is nothing but this feeling, swallowing her whole.

Eventually, Vera opens her eyes again. Her hands are no longer handcuffed to the head of the bed. Philip has released her, and he’s rolled her onto her side. He’s pressed up against her back, his arm securely around her waist. He’s not hard, but he’s taken off his briefs. Vera supposes he found his own relief. She might feel a twinge of guilt, that he’s been left to his own devices after giving her such pleasure, but she’s too languid to feel anything much right now. Too sated. Her limbs are heavy and her mind is pleasantly quiet. 

“Back with me?” Philip asks quietly. Vera nods, just a little. “Good.” He tightens his arm around her a little, flattening his hand against her stomach. “So good,” he murmurs. “You were glorious, Vera.” She closes her eyes again and hums a response. She can’t speak, not yet. She can’t speak and she can hardly move, but she doesn’t care. It’s a rare thing, for Vera to feel this relaxed. She doesn’t want to do anything to disturb it. “Your wrists hurting?” Philip asks. She hums a negative sound, and Philip chuckles. She feels it rumbling in his chest, and feels his warm breath on her neck. “Vera Lombard, made speechless. We keeping the cuffs, then, darling?”

Somehow, Vera summons enough energy to elbow him. She only hits his upper arm, and it’s a feeble blow, but her point is made. Philip laughs again, soft and low, and he kisses her neck. 

“Right,” he says “Sleep well, Vera.”


End file.
